


I have a past, but it's not gonna last.

by et2brute



Category: Historical RPF, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Time Travel, story sketch, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/et2brute/pseuds/et2brute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark meets Mae West.  Briefly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I have a past, but it's not gonna last.

**Author's Note:**

> **On a somewhat related note:** as I've been focusing on original fiction, it is not likely that I will be continuing to update most of the stories here. If you're interested, I share a creative collective with my partner at [war + mercy](http://www.warandmercy.com). Stories, illustrations, poetry, et cetera. If original fiction's not your thing, then farewell and thanks for reading my stories on Ao3!

“Too bad.” West is all dangerous hips and sultry eyes, her voice husky and sweet and slipping like liquid gold straight to Tony’s gut. He’s never met a woman like her. He finds it extremely depressing that he probably never will. “We coulda had a lotta fun together.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” Tony sighs, and her eyes flash at the casual obscenity. He’s almost certain she likes it, since she starts folding her fingers up beneath the lapels of his suit. He wonders, abstractly, what she thinks of it; the strange, modern cut won’t be seen for another eighty years. Give or take.

“You sure you’re not just skippin' town?” She asks, head canted to the side, and holy mother of god, she’s good. “You don’t gotta make up a song and dance about coming from the future just to throw me off your scent, baby.”

“Believe me, West,” Tony says, aching to get his hands in the elaborate, exhaustively artful curl of her carefully-pinned hair, “if it were anything other than the truth, you couldn’t drive me out of here.”

“I’ll bet. I have a bit of a reputation, you know,” she says, tipping her head up. Her eyes sparkle, bluer than he would ever have guessed from the black and white films. “You look like you got a bit of one yourself.”

“Sweetheart,” Tony says, giving in and edging his thumb over her jaw. “You have no idea.”


End file.
